


have cake (eat it too)

by thir13enth



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, but that would be really pushing the pun boundaries, but you know what i mean, i'd also say 'slice of life', or what i like to refer to as the other crumbs and yums ship, well ok to be fair there's a few of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23643457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth
Summary: everyone has dessert preferences. felix is rather partial to lysithea.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	have cake (eat it too)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Engineer104](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/gifts).



> for **reem**. thank you for being such a great fandom friend. you're a brilliant writer and an even more incredible person. thank you for entertaining me in all of my idiocacy, from frankenlemon to infinite cookies to s*teth. sending you all my love.

She tightens the knot — which is enough to squeeze the air out of him.

“ _Ooof_ , not _too_ tight,” he wheezes, as Lysithea loops the apron strings securely and neatly at his back.

She pats his back as condolence. “Turn around,” she commands, ignoring his complaint.

Heeding her command, he faces her, dressed in an apron herself — albeit with decorated with flecks of brown and white, streaks of red food coloring and whatever other baked good delicacies she has baked over the past week, on top of old stains from bad experiments of pies and pastries.

“You look _cute_!” she assures him, pressing her hands together satisfactorily.

He glances down at the light pink apron she’s fitted over him, fresh and new. There’s not a single spot on it — obvious by how clean it is that he hasn’t done half a thing in the kitchen other than fetch ingredients out of her reach.

“No, I don’t,” he refutes.

And it’s true. He doesn’t. Or at least he’s not as cute as she is.

“I’m so glad you got back early from teaching those brats their sword lessons,” she says, tiptoeing to plant a brief kiss on his lips. “Brings you back home to me earlier.”

He leans in to lengthen their kiss, but she gets right back to work, turning to the counter behind her to flip through the pages in her notebook — inside it, doodles of cake designs, scribbles of ingredient lists, cross-outs of fractions of cups and tablespoons on them. While she’s not looking, Felix reaches behind him to loosen the knot behind his back, taking a breath before he steps forward again, peering over her shoulder.

“You know, you _say_ this about me working too long but you’re also the one _bringing_ work home,” he accuses her.

She shrugs off the insult. “I’m simply experimenting — so what if these recipes just happen to be so good that they _have_ to make it to the bakery?” She shuffles around him, bending down to open the cupboard to take out the stand mixer, squatting down to carry it up with her own weight.

Felix quickly surges forward with his hands as she does this. She almost snaps at him for _assuming_ she needed his assistance, but given she stumbles backwards into him, almost falling over in her attempt to lift the stand mixer onto the counter, she finds nothing to say.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” he reminds her.

She turns away from him, hiding the blush over her cheeks. “Well, then why don’t you help me taste-test this dessert when it’s all done?”

If he’s being completely honest, Felix isn’t in the mood for sweets, but he doesn’t want to upset her either, so he musters some form of an agreeing sound. He notices her tiptoe up to open the next cabinet, reaching something at least a foot above her head — almond flour.

“What are you making this time?” he asks, stepping forward to get it for her instead.

She doesn’t complain about his help this time. “An almond flour cake with rosewater icing. I’m going to try to add some cardamom, too.”

“Sounds good,” he replies, his eyes following her hands as she reaches back to tie her hair up.

Somehow, she makes even the simple act of tying hair look good. Then again, she made _everything_ look good — orchestrating all the ingredients together. She whips butter and sugar until light, folding in rosewater, then the flour before she pours the batter into two circular tins, the batter evenly divided. When this is all done, she looks at him expectantly, and he knows exactly what to do.

He picks up the first tin and taps it against the counter — getting out the air bubbles out of the batter. He repeats with the second tin. Clearly the hardest task.

As soon as she opens the oven door, she swipes both cake tins from him, sliding them perfectly into the center of the rack. In return for such a job well done, she gives him a brief kiss, and before he’s even able to process it, she’s already moved on from him, sidestepping him to start working on the icing.

It’s all part of a system — the same method, the same rhythm, the same dance she creates every time she makes a cake. He watches her, leaning against the counter, his forearm propped on the surface.

Not before long, she dips a finger into the icing, bringing it to her lips to taste. Her eyes brighten and she nods satisfactorily at her concoction. She sweeps up another smear, raising it to Felix’s mouth.

“Taste!” she urges.

He stares at the icing, bracing himself for the sugar, but nonetheless leans forward and takes her finger between his lips. He takes her wrist in a free hand, holding her hand at his mouth as he gently sucks the icing off her fingertip. He looks up at her momentarily, his tongue still around her finger, and smirks when he sees the light blush over her pale skin. She catches his indiscretions quickly, hiding her embarrassment with an angry glare, and bops him on the head with her other hand.

At this, he breaks into a quiet laugh, letting her finger go and pulling her head toward him to offer an apologetic kiss. She doesn’t refuse him this time, smiling into his lips.

The kitchen timer goes off then. Bad timing, in his opinion.

Easily removing herself from him to tend to her cake, she slips out of his reach and spins around to slip the oven mitts over her hands. He picks himself up from the counter, pulling the handle of the oven door open. She reaches in for both tins, pulling the golden brown-topped cakes out. She flips them over onto the cooling rack, her smile widening when she sees how both cakes perfectly pop out of the tin. As always, Lysithea executes everything flawlessly. There’s barely a crumb left in both tins.

“Mmm,” she says. “Doesn’t it smell delicious?”

She looks at the cake, almost impatiently. Felix recognizes the look in her eyes right away, and he wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her in and away from her dessert.

“Let’s eat dinner first,” he coaxes her. “We have to let the cake sit and cool a while, don’t we?”

She gives him a forlorn frown, although she knows he’s right. “Okay,” she sighs, letting him guide her back out of the kitchen to sit at the table.

Dinner is take-out, of course — because neither of them had the time nor motivation that evening to stir up anything beyond dessert. Ashe is much better at cooking than both of them combined anyway. No better reason than that to support a long-time friend in his life goals to establish a restaurant.

And plus, take-out makes clean up _that_ much easier, which is in Lysithea’s better interests.

It only takes a quick wipe of the napkin around their mouths and some stacking of containers to toss into the trash before Lysithea can focus all her attention back on her cake. Again, Felix steps back to let Lysithea work her magic.

She levels her cakes, places the first onto the cake stand and spreads frosting on it, stacks the other one perfectly atop, then melts the icing a little bit so that she can pour the liquid atop. The white icing leaves a smooth, glassy reflection, some spilling luxuriously over the edges of the cake. Before the frosting cools over, she expertly drops rose petals, crushed pistachios, and chunks of candied ginger around the circumference.

She clasps her hands together after quickly adjusting a few petals around. “Perfect,” she says.

Felix already has the camera set up. He passes it to her, and she takes her many shots of the many perspective of the cakes, instructing him to shift the cake here and there. When she hums satisfactorily, she places the camera onto the counter.

“We’ve waited long enough — let’s taste this!” she says, skipping a couple steps to the drawers to get a knife and cake server.

He hears her hold her breath as she brings down the knife for the first slice — and for a moment, his mind goes into a future dream where Lysithea, dressed in a white gown and veil, cuts a white cake is several tiers high.

With that, he becomes the one with the held breath. He doesn’t release his exhale until she presents him a slice — about a third of the size of her slice.

He clears his throat. “Thanks,” he says, hoping the blush he feels doesn’t show on his face.

He makes a mental note to get that ring back from Sylvain’s closet, find somewhere in the apartment to hide it in the meantime.

Lysithea doesn’t seem to pay any attention. She’s too focused on her cake, anyway, digging immediately into the slice and popping it into her mouth without even sitting down.

“ _Amazing_ ,” she sighs. “Delectable.” She barely says the second word before eating another spoonful.

He chuckles. “Sit down and enjoy this properly,” he tells her.

She rolls her eyes at him. “A cake must be eaten as soon as possible!” she retorts, but nevertheless follows him back to the kitchen table to sit down. She takes yet another bite — her third — before realizing that Felix hasn’t even touched his own slice with his spoon. She looks pointedly at him, waving her spoon at him. “What are you waiting for? Try some! You promised me you’d help me taste-test! Have some of your dessert!”

“Right, right,” he says, lifting from his chair. “I was just waiting for her to sit for a bit.”

And before she says another word, he plants a kiss on her lips.

**Author's Note:**

> lol don't ask what i was listening to while i was writing this. it was incredibly irrelevant lmao. _(devil may cry ost)_
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/napsbeforesleep)


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